


By The Sword

by EmmaArthur



Series: Whumptober 2019 [8]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex Liz and Maria as the three Musketeers, Alex Whump, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Antar, BAMF Alex, Canon Disabled Character, How Do I Tag, Jesse Manes is a War Crime, M/M, Malex have an even worse history than canon, Musketeers AU, Swordfighting, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 14:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaArthur/pseuds/EmmaArthur
Summary: Alex barely makes it all the way to the garrison before he collapses. He falls to his knees the moment he's inside the large doors, with no energy left in him to make it to his quarters.“Captain!” someone calls out. “Liz! Maria! The Captain's back, and he's injured!”





	By The Sword

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober day 8: **Stab Wound**
> 
> This is a complete mashup of RNM storylines with both Dumas's The Three Musketeers and BBC's The Musketeers. It's more out there than usual for me, as I started writing with exactly one idea: Tyler Blackburn in a Musketeer uniform (even better, in the BBC show uniforms).
> 
> [injuries, mentions of war, amputation, alcohol and drinking, execution, suicide ideation]

Alex barely makes it all the way to the garrison before he collapses. He falls to his knees the moment he's inside the large doors, with no energy left in him to make it to his quarters.

“Captain!” someone calls out. “Liz! Maria! The Captain's back, and he's injured!”

“Alex!” This time it's Maria's worried voice. Alex feels her crouch beside him. “Alex, what's wrong? Where are you hurt?”

“Shoulder,” he murmurs. Maria gently pries his hand away from the wound on the inside of his left shoulder, not far above his heart, and hisses.

“Alex, you got stabbed?” she asks. “Kyle, get over here!”

“Alex!” Liz calls, joining them.

“I'm okay,” Alex murmurs, trying to stand back up.

“No you're not,” Maria says. “You have a stab wound and you've lost a lot of blood. Now how about you let us get you to bed?”

Alex just nods and relents. Liz slings his right arm around her shoulders and pulls him up. Alex tries not to put too much of his weight on her, but between the bloodloss and his leg, he's unable to stand under his own power. Liz supports him without flinching, though. She may be short, but she's stronger than she looks−otherwise she would never have made it through Musketeer training.

Maria stays on the other side for balance, though she doesn't touch his arm. Alex is grateful for that, because he almost passed out the last time he tried to move his shoulder. The three-hour ride back to the garrison has been hell.

Kyle, the garrison's doctor, joins them halfway to Alex's quarters, his medical bag in hands. He helps Liz lower Alex onto his bed and immediately starts removing Alex's leathers.

“Your shirt isn't salvageable, but these can be cleaned,” he says, handing them off to Maria. “Good leather is pricey.”

“Kyle, no offense, but we don't really care about his uniform right now,” Liz says, annoyed. “How about the wound?”

“Get me some water to clean it out, and I'll tell you!” Kyle rolls his eyes.

Alex only barely follows the conversation, exhausted. He grits his teeth as Kyle runs a wet cloth on the partially scabbed wound.

“It's not life-threatening, as long as it doesn't get infected,” Kyle diagnoses. “But it definitely needs stitches.”

Alex winces. He expected it, but it's never fun. He's had his fair share of injuries over the years−more than his fair share, actually, since an infected wound took his right leg in the last war. Everyone expected him to retire then, or at least retire from the field, as he'd just been made Captain, but he got thoroughly bored of desk work after a week, and Liz and Maria were simply not as good a team without him. So he worked his ass off to get back on his feet and train to fight with his new prosthetic, and within less than a year, they were the best Musketeer team of all Antar again.

Liz hands him a glass. “Bourbon,” she says. “You're going to need it.”

Alex nods his thanks. He barely has time to swallow the drink before Kyle digs into his injury, checking for dirt, and he arches back, biting back a scream. Liz offers him a cloth to bite onto.

“I'm going to bind your arm to your chest for now so you don't tear the stitches,” Kyle says when he's done with the stitching. By then, Alex is exhausted and covered in sweat, so he doesn't protest. His leg has definitively cured him of his tendency to take injuries lightly, anyway.

He gestures to his leg, which is painful and raw after the abuse it took today. “You want me to remove it?” Liz asks. Alex nods.

“So, who was it this time?” Maria asks, while Liz pulls of his boot and works on the latch of his prosthetic.

“My father's men, who else,” Alex answers tiredly. “But they had someone else with them, I couldn't see his face.”

He could swear he recognized his stance, though. But it's impossible. The man it belonged to is long dead. But the way he ducked left, right before plunging his blade into Alex's shoulder…

Alex doesn't know many people who can fight that well. He's one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom, even now, and this person bested him like he already knew all his tricks.

He ponders on that for a long time, after the other file out of his room. He's spent but restless, the pain preventing him from sleeping for more than a few minutes at a time. He can't find a comfortable position to lie in. His free hand keeps going to the pendant around his neck, as his thoughts wander. He traces the gold ring, and then the medallion, without opening it.

Why did this man, cloaked and hooded, remind him so much of the man he once almost married?

He swipes at his eyes before the tears can fall, angry with himself for letting his thoughts take him there. Of course that man wasn't Michael: Michael has been dead for ten years. The anniversary is coming up, Alex realizes. He died the day their wedding was set to take place, a reflection of his father's twisted mind. Ten years, in less than a week. Maybe that's why Michael was on his mind so much today.

Sitting up, Alex decides he's done lying in bed. He can be careful of his arm and still make himself useful. Putting his prosthetic and his boots back on is hell with only one hand, but he manages after a few minutes. He rummages his chest for a clean shirt and pulls it over his head awkwardly, leaving the left sleeve empty as his arm is strapped to his chest.

“Alex!” Liz exclaims from the courtyard, when she sees him coming down the stairs. “You shouldn't be out of bed yet!”

“I'm fine,” Alex says. “Don't worry, I'll be careful.” He knows Liz is just as scared as he is of him getting another infection, but he really wants to shake off her concern. This whole business has put him in an awful mood, and the fact that he's light-headed from bloodloss and in pain doesn't make it better. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

“The king requested us to escort his children tomorrow back from the summer palace,” Liz says.

Alex sighs. “Are we on babysitting duty again?”

The twin prince and princess, Max and Isobel, who are about Alex's age, aren't really as annoying as children, but they tend to scoff at having bodyguards, and regularly ignore the Musketeers' safety requests. They like to travel a lot, especially between the royal houses all over the country, and the king has taken to requesting his best Musketeers to guard them since the latest threats on their lives, even though it should be a job for his royal Guard. But everyone knows Valenti's Musketeers are better fighters than Manes' Red Guard, especially with Alex Manes at their command. Something that angers his father to no end.

“They're not that bad,” Liz shrugs. “You won't be going anyway, you're injured.”

“And you're not saying that at all because you have a crush on Prince Max,” Maria interjects, handing Alex a bowl of soup as he sits at the table. “How are you feeling?” she adds to Alex.

“I'm okay,” Alex says. “Just sore.”

“You're the one who keeps flirting with Princess Isobel,” Liz retorts to Maria. “What, you thought I hadn't noticed?”

Alex shakes his head at his friends' antics. They've been inseparable ever since he first joined the Musketeers. They're the best of friends in every situation, funny and supportive. With them, he even forget, sometimes, the life he left behind.

“What's got you so worked up?” Maria asks, and Alex realizes he's gotten lost in his thoughts again. His hand has made its way to his pendant against his will, and Liz and Maria are both giving him knowing look.

Over the years, they've become really good at gauging his moods, and especially at noticing when he's taken by bouts of melancholy. He's never told them anything of his former life, and he doesn't intend to, but they know which subjects to avoid.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just...I hate being injured.”

“We know,” Liz says, putting her hand on his arm. “But you still need to rest up, okay?”

“I know,” Alex sighs. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone march up to them. “And I guess it's time for me to report,” he adds, standing up to welcome Commander Valenti. “Commander.”

The woman looks him up and down with severe eyes.

“Captain. Who did you piss off this time?”

Six days later, Alex is in the foulest mood. He's been dreading this anniversary for months, and it's proving as bad as he thought it would be. Everything is going wrong. His arm still isn't healed enough to use, now resting in a sling, so he's been on desk duty for the last few days, and he's remembering exactly why he hates it. And then, whether the effect of his injury or simply the time of the year, the nightmares started. The anniversary of the day he lost his fiance and the day he lost his leg are just two days apart, and it's always a bad time for him, filled with alcohol and fevered dreams.

His team is set to spend the day at the palace again, and this time the King specifically asked for his favorite Musketeer despite his injury. Alex doesn't understand why, but as he's not bed-bound, he has no choice but to obey. He hoped to be able to take the day off and drink the pain away, but the universe is against him. To top it off, both his shoulder and his leg are killing him, and he's forced to ask an aid to hold his horse's reins on the way to the palace, because he barely has enough balance to keep himself on the saddle.

“Come on,” Liz tries to motivate him, as he mopes on his horse. “It's going to be okay. There's to be some kind of celebration planned, for some noble guy who just came to court.”

“That's usually not good news,” Alex remarks. “Means we'll have to be twice as vigilant.”

“Leave that to us,” Maria says, bringing her horse to his other side. “Just because the King requested you doesn't mean you should overtax yourself.”

“My father will be there,” Alex sighs.

“And you can't help showing off your Musketeers in front of him, in hope that he'll acknowledge your accomplishments someday. Alex, you don't need him. Everyone knows you're better than him.”

“He's still the Prime Minister, and he has the King's ear. He could have me executed if the fancy took him to see me gone.”

“The King loves you far too much for that,” Liz says. “That's why your father is reduced to sending his Reg Guards to fight his battles and try to off you in a skirmish.”

Alex sighs and readjusts his sling. “We're here,” he says.

As usual, the day at the palace involves a lot of waiting around and standing guard, far more than Alex's leg should really be put through today. But sitting in front of the Royal Family is simply unthinkable. He watches Prince Max and Princess Isobel, lounging in comfortable armchairs under a canopy, with envy and a twinge of resentment.

“Who's this?” Liz asks him, midway through the day. She discreetly points to a man on the other side of the canopy. He's wearing red like the Red Guards, but his uniform is richer and perfectly clean, and his stance isn't that of a guard. He has a hood over his head, hiding his hair and his face. Alex frowns. Someone who can get away with hiding his identity in the middle of a royal event must be high-ranking, probably from the Royal Family, but he can't think of who that could be.

“Watch him closely,” he tells Liz. There's also the option that he's an imposter.

He's not. Minutes after Liz notices him, the man approaches the canopy at a sign from the King. The king stands up, and everyone immediately stops talking.

“I would like to introduce to the court my natural son, Michael,” the King says, one hand on the man's shoulder. Alex feels his breathing pick up, like his body has already figured out what his brain refuses to understand.

The mysterious man reaches up and removes his hood.

“Thank you, my King,” he says, kneeling quickly. “I have lived my whole life in the shadows, and I will go back to a modest life as soon as my purpose is complete. I have come to court for one reason only: to challenge Captain Alex Manes of the Musketeers to a formal duel.”

Alex gapes. Liz and Maria rally around him, confused. “What?” Liz frowns.

Michael stands back up, and turns to look straight at Alex. It feels like a punch to his gut.

“But why? Alex, do you know him?” Liz presses in a murmur. The court is getting agitated, the announcement raising eyebrows. A King introducing a natural-born son to give out a title and a land is not uncommon, but for that son to challenge the Captain of the Musketeers? That's unheard of.

“Yes,” Alex mutters, still in shock.

“Who is he?” Liz asks.

“Michael was my fiance,” Alex says. “My _dead_ fiance.”

“What?”

“He can't be alive,” Alex breathes. “It's not possible. He was hanged because of me.”

Liz looks about to shake him, but she's interrupted by Michael raising his hands. “Do you accept?” he shouts across the space between them.

“But he's injured!” Maria shouts back.

“No,” Alex says, squaring his shoulders and taking a step forward. “Reparations are deserved. I will duel you. Choose your field of honor.”

He meets Michael's eyes for a moment, and the emotions are almost too much to keep inside. Alex feels like he's going to burst. Michael is alive. The man he's missed so much that he would have ended his life, had the Musketeers not given him a purpose again. 

Michael takes a step back and looks toward the King, who nods.

“You will duel here,” he says. “The two of you are likely the best swordsmen in my kingdom. This should be entertaining. Please refrain from killing each other, though. Although my court may well be bloodthirsty enough to enjoy the show, I have uses for both of you.”

Michael bows deeply, and Alex scrambles to do the same. His leg gives out of under him, and Liz has to hold him up as he straightens again.

“Elizabeth and Maria will serve as my seconds,” he says when he's balanced again, waving at his friends. “Who are yours?”

“Oh, I was hoping for sweet Maria,” Michael tilts his head. “Are you as good with the sword as you are in bed?”

Alex looks at Maria in shock. 

“I didn't know who he was,” she whispers hurriedly. “It was just a drunken hookup.”

“I know Michael,” Alex murmurs back. “He's a charmer alright, but he didn't approach you by chance. He was fishing for information.”

Maria frowns in anger. “I'll stay with my friends, thank you,” she shouts across the field.

“Then, will my King allow his daughter to second me?” Michael asks, bowing respectfully. “Obviously the heir cannot risk a hair on his head,” he adds with a smirk to Max.

“Did you have to make me second choice?” Isobel whines.

“You can never be a second choice, dear sister,” Michael assures.

It's only then, that the King's proclamation from earlier makes it to Alex's brain. Michael is the King's son. How is it possible? A man who came to him poor and alone, with no family and no name, is the King's bastard? A man, as he discovered, convicted and branded for thievery?

Did Michael know his heritage, back when they were together? Did he hide that from Alex, too?

For the first time today, Alex looks over to the chair to Max's right, a little to the back, where his father sits. Jesse Manes gives him back an enigmatic look. Alex has no way to know if he knew about this, if he knew that Michael was alive and who he was this whole time. He closes his eyes in dismay.

“I will allow it,” the King says. “Now prepare yourself.”

“Alex,” Liz shakes his good shoulder. “Are you sure you can do this? You don't look good.”

“I'll be fine,” Alex says. He doesn't know if that's true. He's the one who taught Michael to fence, and even back then, he was amazingly good at it. God only knows how much he's improved in the last ten years. And he's able-bodied and uninjured, while Alex can barely stay on his feet.

He's read to be beaten, though. It's only what he deserves.

He removes his sling, keeping his left arm close to his body. It's useless, but he needs to be able to move for balance. He gives Maria his hat and his  blue  uniform  cape, and draws his sword. He'll give Michael a run for his money, if nothing else. Michael has always enjoyed the challenge.

Trying not to limp too much, Alex approaches Michael, in the middle of the field everyone else has vacated. They have an audience, a good portion of the court. Duels are a highly-valued form of entertainment to the noble class.

When he's close enough to Michael, he turns toward the King to bow deeply, then gives Michael a smaller bow, without taking his eyes off him. Michael returns it with a smirk.

“You look good in blue and leathers,” he says, low enough that only the two of them can hear.

“How are you alive, Michael?” Alex asks in the same tone.

“Not thanks to you,” Michael shrugs. “I've come for revenge. You had me hanged!”

Alex averts his eyes.

His father gave the order, when Michael was exposed as a thief and a fraud, and Alex wasn't strong enough to stop it.

That's why he joined the King's Musketeers. To become strong enough.

“Fight!” the King shouts.

Alex raises his sword.

**Author's Note:**

> This AU makes no sense whatsoever, but I want to write more now :D Malex and swordfighting seems perfect. I don't know who wins the duel (probably Michael, given Alex's state) but hopefully we'll find out together haha.
> 
> Do you want to see more?


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